


Dissolved

by Call_Me_Apple



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, DreamSMP - Freeform, Drowning, Emotional Hurt, Execution, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Panic Attacks, Ranboo Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Temporary Character Death, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28575582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Call_Me_Apple/pseuds/Call_Me_Apple
Summary: Ranboo learns the consequences of being gullible. The hard way.A story about how The Festival could've gone differently.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 463





	Dissolved

**Author's Note:**

> Koi (@Dialmuci) went on an angst spree in my twitter tl together with all of bootwt and I speedran this fanfic.  
> Mainly inspired by: https://twitter.com/rykalt/status/1346005036397023234?s=20
> 
> Enjoy the angst!

Life in L’Manburg is one of chaos and unpredictability. It seems that every day, something occurs: some new project, new event, new conflict. Even with no active war going on for once, Ranboo hasn’t felt at peace for weeks. 

With such a lifestyle, you learn to expect the unexpected. So Ranboo isn’t that surprised when Techno arrives in L’Manburg with Tommy and a hostage in the form of a onesie-clad Connor in tow. Nevermind that Tommy is presumed dead by most of L’Manburg and Connor isn’t even a citizen. Such nuances tend to slip your mind when one of the server’s most powerful people arrives at the doorstep of your nation looking for his weaponry. Too bad that after weeks, Technoblade’s confiscated items have changed hands so many times that Ranboo’s faulty mind has trouble remembering who owns what and where anything is stored. 

With some input from Tubbo, they agree to return Techno his pickaxe and crossbow in return for Connor’s life. The president watches his ex-best-friend leave with his #1 enemy, distraught and lost. Ranboo stays by his side the rest of the day, awkwardly trying to comfort the leader and listening to Tubbo’s confused ramblings about betrayals and revenge.

At some point, Tubbo makes a point about how disastrous that day’s exchange had been. “We need to take stock of where the rest of Technoblade’s items are. We can’t afford to lose track of them again. I have no doubt he will return looking for his weapons again.”

Ranboo agrees and opts to contact the current holders of some of Techno’s items. He gets back to his duties and makes sure to write that day’s events into his memory book so as to not forget his task or the meeting with Techno.

In a couple of days, he comes across Tubbo on one of L’Manburg’s many platforms. The president looks disheveled and out of it, as if he had just awoken from a nap. Or as if he was under the influence of something...

"Ranboo? After… the 16th, you said you put all of Techno's items in a hidden chest in Tommy's house, right?" 

"Yep."

"I didn't see Technoblade’s armor in there." 

Ranboo freezes. Thousands of freezing needles pierce through every molecule in his body, paralyzing him. He can't move, can't think, can only stare forward with wide, terrified eyes. He feels like he's dying, or is about to die, or would prefer to die. He wishes for the wooden platform beneath him to split open and swallow him whole, to take him away from this world just so that he wouldn't have to be right here, right now. 

Slowly, reluctantly, he turns to Tubbo. The boy meets Ranboo's eyes. Discomfort prickles in the back of his mind at the eye contact, but it is drowned out by the pure terror ripping him apart from the inside. The president's gaze holds no accusation or suspicion, only genuine confusion. 

He doesn't know. 

The needles leave Ranboo's body, and he lets out a subtle sigh of relief. Through the lasting fog of his fear he tries to come up with some excuse, some explanation as to how the armor turned up in a different place than the rest of Technoblade's gear. 

"I must have put it in a different place and forgot," the lie tumbles out easily, almost effortlessly. "I'll have to look through my book to see where I put it." 

He could do it right now. Go through the pages of his journal-diary and refresh his scattered memory. The book never leaves his inventory, and he feels it in the inside pocket of his suit in that very moment. Only problem is - there is nothing written about the armor. Nothing about him following Ghostbur to Techno’s house and returning the armor to the man whose execution he watched a mere hour ago. Armor that he was charged with hiding from the #1 target of the Butcher Army.

_ I am so stupid,  _ Ranboo thinks,  _ so, so stupid. _

Ranboo’s crisis goes unnoticed by the president, who takes him at his word and nods, seemingly forgetting that the aforementioned journal is always on Ranboo’s person. Ever since seeing Tommy, Tubbo seemed disconnected from the world, lost in his own mind. Whatever effect the meeting had on the president, it seemed to also affect his cognition - a quality that was detrimental to the ruler of a nation, but benefited Ranboo greatly in his current position.

Ranboo sighs subtly, relieved.  _ We are fine, you are fine, _ he reassures himself.  _ Tubbo doesn’t know. _

  
  


The memory book is gone.

He never takes it out of his inventory.

He fruitlessly tries to piece together the shards of his ruined memory, tries to remember where he put the book, but can’t for the life of him even understand why he took it out of his inventory in the first place.

_ Why did you take it out? Where did you put it? Why did you take it out? Where is it, where is it where is it where is it- _

His mind tears itself into shreds as he runs from one place to another, following scraps of recollections.  _ Where have you been? The hole? The shop? The house? You have to find it, you have to- _

What if somebody had taken it?

He had two memory books. One he showed to whoever asked for it. It listed what he did, where he went. As far as anyone was concerned, that was the only book he owned. But it only held information that wouldn’t compromise him. It was a front to keep him safe and hide his betrayals and act as L’Manburg’s minute taker.

The second memory book held his personal notes, his deepest secrets, kept tracks of his real allegiances and relationships. 

The first book was burned in an accident, the second book he is currently running around the entire server for.

He can NOT let anyone see it. No one can know that he had been to Technoblade’s cabin… twice, that he had returned his armor to the anarchist, that he had known Tommy was alive all along…

Ranboo feels sick.

After visiting what seemed like every place on the entire server where the book could have been, he returns to his house and rechecks his barrels and chests for the third time. With shaking hands, he reaches into one of his double chests, rummaging around it desperately, carelessly pushing aside the music disks that were stored there. One of his hands feels the texture of leather. Without thought, he snatches the object out of the chest. A book labeled “Do not read” lies in his grasp, his memory book.

He feels lightheaded. Ranboo drops to the ground, his knees hitting the floor painfully, book still in hand. Black fingers skip through the frayed pages of the diary in a frenzy, looking for anything that was out of place, any sign that an alien hand spoiled the archive of his most valuable memories, but finds no hint of intrusion. 

Slowly, gradually, his panic subsides, leaving a cold void in its place. He hugs the memory book to his chest. Renewed memories flash through his mind - joining the SMP, feeling out of place, being welcomed by the citizens of L’Manburg, forming friendships, losing them, feeling lost, visiting Technoblade, betraying, keeping secrets,  _ so many secrets _ , watching Tubbo mourn his childhood friend while Ranboo knew, he knew- yet couldn’t tell. He is a liar, a liar and a traitor with no place in this world, no side to welcome him.  _ No moral backbone to direct his choices. A lost fool. _

The memories prey on his already torn mind. A single tear burns a path down the skin of his monochrome face. Whispered comforts fill the room.

_ You’re fine. You’ll be fine. They don’t know. They don’t know. We are fine. _

Ranboo does not move from his place on the floor for a long time as insecurities plague his mind. Too preoccupied with his own crisis to notice a familiar face watching him through the window of a nearby house.

  
  


The winter festival arrives in what feels like no time at all. Ranboo looks at the decorations with pride - the colorful woolen arches, the many lights illuminating the houses and platforms, the stalls offering tasty food, the many games to entertain participants of the festival. He and Fundy did a great job prettying the place up, at least he thought so. The two of them did not do all of the work though, Tubbo and, oddly, Quackity, took over designing one of the games.

In spite of the festive surroundings, there was little joy in Ranboo’s soul. He knows what this festival is truly meant for. This is no celebration - this is a trap, created only to take Dream’s life. The decorations, the game are but a front for an assassination. 

Only the Butcher Army knows of the festival’s true purpose, while everyone else simply enjoys the event. Nikki and Fundy are laughing to themselves about something, Karl, Sapnap and George are messing around by the stalls. Other members of the SMP are scattered all around the city-state, playing games, throwing snowballs at one another, gossiping and chatting.

Ranboo stands alone, watching, waiting.

At some point during the festival, Quackity will give a signal, and the four members of the Butcher Army will put on armor and jump Dream, killing him. As per the tradition of L’Manburg, no one is wearing armor, including their target.

Throughout the event, doubts fester in Ranboo’s mind. Is killing Dream really the answer? Can’t it all be solved more… peacefully?

He closes his mismatched eyes and takes a deep breath. It is too late to change the course now. Even if he warns Dream, it will only cause chaos.

Since when does he make his own decision anyway?

Ranboo opens his eyes and looks down at his hands. He imagines them baked in the blood of yet another target of the Butcher Army. In the blood of the person who is practically a God, the one whose power can only be rivaled by Technoblade. Technoblade, whom the four of them already failed to take down.

_ What are we thinking? _

His inner musings are interrupted by the sound of somebody calling his name. Ranboo looks up and meets eyes with Quackity. The leader of the Butchers gives Ranboo a welcoming smile. “Come join the fun. We’ve got a game we’d like you to try out.” he says as he turns, “Come with.”

Obediently, Ranboo follows. Tubbo gives them an odd look as they pass by. For once, the president is sober and dressed in his official uniform, which is prim and tidy, just like it was on the first day of his presidency.

Quackity leads him to the outskirts of the city, where the planks of the city’s platforms give way to plush grass. As they walk, the leader of the Butcher Army shouts at everyone they pass, inviting them to participate in a game. Anxiety crawls up Ranboo’s spine as he realises that if Quackity wants him to partake in the game and is inviting everyone to join, Ranboo would be the center of attention. He swallows uneasily, but walks alongside his leader until they stop in front of some kind of redstone contraption. It is a tall, obsidian box, closed off by an iron door. A piece of glowstone lights up the tiny space from the inside. There are two unlabeled levers on the side of the machine, one seems to be hooked up to its top, the other to the iron door.

“Is this… the game?” Ranboo asks uneasily. Quackity only smirks and nods, as everyone gathers around the contraption, looking at it with interest. He gestures to the double chest that stands by the iron door. “Put all of your items in there.”

“Including my armor?” Ranboo questions. Didn’t they agree to keep the armor on them for when it’s time to attack Dream?

“Including your armor.”

Without further inquiries, Ranboo begins to dump his entire inventory into the chest: his treasured sword, his pickaxes, his tridents, every piece of his armor - until his inventory is completely empty except for some food and his memory book. He feels at his inner pocket, feeling the outline of the diary. Whatever this game is, he doesn’t want to lose it… again.

“Do you have an ender chest?”

Quackity lifts an eyebrow quizzically at the request and shakes his head. “What, you got something you don’t want anyone to see?” he asks with a knowing smirk. 

“N-no,” Ranboo stutters out in reply. Fear shoots up Ranboo’s spine at the look the other gives him, as if he can see right through the half-enderman. 

“Get in the box then,” the Butcher says and pulls the lever that opens the door. Ranboo complies.

( _ Ranboo in a box, what will he do _ , he thinks, a little hysterically.)

The first thing he notices when his feet touch the obsidian floor is how cold it is in the tiny room despite the warmth that comes from the single glowstone block. The second thing he notices is that there is water dripping from the blackstone block above him. The only other non-obsidian block in the room aside from the glowstone.

Then, the iron door closes behind him with a loud foreboding click. 

Ranboo jumps and turns around, peering at the guests through the holes in the door. Everyone seems to be in a mix of excitement and confusion. He can see people whispering among each other quizzically, wondering what kind of game can be played in a contraption like this. Before Ranboo can get a good look at everyone, Quackity steps in front of the door, blocking his view of the outside.

“I am going to be honest with you Ranboo,” the Butcher grins, his eyes glinting, “this isn’t a game.” Quackity turns to the crowd, reaches a hand into his inventory and pulls out an unsigned book. 

“Quackity, what-”   
  
“Ladies and gentleman, I have an announcement to make. As some of you may know, our friend here has memory issues which he makes up for by writing all the important information in a book.” He turns to the trapped man with a wicked smile, “What do you think this book is, Ranboo?”

Ranboo reaches into his jacket with a shaking hand. He pulls out his memory book and quickly opens it, afraid of what he will see. But it is still the same book containing all of his memories, it wasn’t swapped or altered.  _ What- _

“No, you still have your book. Which is quite weird, since you told everyone it was burned by Skeppy. A few days ago, I went to your house to take some cobblestone, and found another book titled ‘Do not read’ in a chest. And, well,” his smile widens, “I just couldn’t resist.” 

Quackity looks at Ranboo the way predators look at prey. There is wicked satisfaction in his eyes, the joy of finally catching someone after a long chase. “You have written some interesting things in it. Things I never saw in the memory book you would give everyone before it was burned. But I couldn’t just take it, you would notice it if your treasured book went missing. So I made a copy.” The book in Quackity’s hand snaps open, and the man tilts his head down so he can read the writing. “Let’s see what you’ve written, shall we?” he flips through the first few pages and proceeds to read one of the later entries. “Techno is interesting, but in an okay way…”

Quackity reads the entire passage. He tells everyone about Ranboo finding Technoblade, learning that Tommy is still alive, about giving Technoblade his armor. About how Ranboo betrayed the only place that accepted him almost the moment he pledged his loyalty to it.

The real memory book drops from Ranboo’s weakened grasp and hits the obsidian floor with a thump, forgotten.

Ranboo peeks at the attendees of the festival above Quackity’s shoulder and watches everyone’s expressions shift. The members of the Greater Dream SMP seem intrigued, but the citizens… Ranboo meets eyes with Nikki, who has covered her mouth in shock. She looks at him as tears stream down her face. She whispers something to Fundy, who watches Ranboo with a stern gaze, not at all surprised by what’s being said. It seems that although the populace of the city was only now learning about the betrayal, Quackity had already informed the rest of the Butcher Army about Ranboo’s lies.

Distantly, Ranboo realises he’s hyperventilating. Quackity is still reading out passages from the book, but he can no longer hear them through the ringing in his ears. He sees the Butcher turn back to him and manages to tune back into the world just enough to hear his next words.   
  
“What do you have to say for yourself, traitor?”

Ranboo opens his mouth in an attempt to reply, but chokes on his words. He feels water slide down his cheek, burning the skin, but he isn’t crying. Perturbed, he looks up at the ceiling, which is beginning to drip more and more intensely.

“Lost for words?,” Quackity mocks, “Mr. President, what sentence do we give for betrayal?” 

Ranboo watches as Tubbo steps out of the crowd and joins Quackity at his side. If looks could kill, Ranboo would have perished right there and then from the coldness in the eyes of his leader and friend.

“Do you know what happens to traitors, Ranboo?” Tubbo says in a low monotone, then, louder, “Traitors are to be punished by execution!” The crowd erupts into worried mumbles at the announcement. The name “Schlatt” passes between the gathered loudly enough for even Ranboo to hear it.

Tubbo takes Quackity’s position in front of the door as the other moves away, out of sight. The president looks on at Ranboo with disappointment and a cold kind of hatred. "You know, I liked you, Ranboo. I thought you were a good man. I let you join L'Manburg and the Butcher Army because I thought you were loyal, and you helped Tommy before his exile. But then, only weeks later, Quackity tells me that our minuteman has been keeping some valuable information from the nation’s administration." He closes his eyes and breathes in, "This country has enough to deal with without having moles and traitors on the inside. Pull the lever, Big Q!" 

Out of the corner of his eye, Ranboo sees Quackity jump to the second lever. Before he can react, the sound of a piston closing resounds from above him and the blackstone block is removed to reveal a chunk of ice. At first, Ranboo is confused.  _ Ice? What kind of execution is that? _ But then, his eyes widen.

His faulty memory flashes back to one of his first days on the server, when he had only just joined L’Manburg, even before Tommy had been exiled. One day, he got caught off-guard by rain. He was exploring the city when the sky began crying, fat droplets of water hitting his skin and hurting him. He hid under the roof of one of the houses then, afraid to leave. As he watched the city, Tubbo and Tommy ran out onto the street and began playing in the rain like the youth they were. It was easy to forget they were still teenagers, practically children even, with all they’ve gone through. Tubbo was smiling wide as he and Tommy played tag, his presidential uniform discarded for once in favor of an old tattered shirt.

Suddenly, Tommy slipped on the wet planks of the pavement and caught Tubbo on his way down to the ground. Both of them laughed as they laid in a puddle, when one of them looked up and noticed Ranboo on his lonesome.

“Hey Ranboo! Come join us!” Tubbo yelled.

“I can’t.”   
  
“Why not? It’s just rain! You can dry up later.”

Ranboo folded into himself awkwardly, unsure of revealing his vulnerability. But it was only Tubbo and Tommy, it’s not like they would use it against him. “I am half-enderman, sooo… The water hurts me.” His ender origins granted him a painful response to water, but not the ability to teleport away from it, an inconvenience that plagued his existence whenever bad weather struck unexpectedly.

The two looked bewildered at that piece of information. They looked at each other, before turning back to him. “Well it’s not like you can die from it, is it?” Tommy asked.

“I hope not,” he laughed, “dying to water would be pretty pathetic, don’t you think?”

At that, his mind returns to the present and he realises a few things. First, he is completely stuck. He left all of his tools outside in the chest, and it will take ages to break the iron door just with his hands. Secondly, more and more water is dripping on him with every second as the heat of the glowstone melts the ice. And thirdly, eventually, the ice will break and water will fill the entire trap, leaving Ranboo to drown. Except he won’t just die. The pain an enderman experiences at touching water can best be compared to a human touching a burning coal. The feeling that would result from water completely surrounding him can only be imagined in nightmares. 

He throws himself at the iron door, arms grasping at the bars. “W-wait, please, I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to!”

“Ah, so you’ve found your voice,” Quackity teases, “Didn’t mean to? Didn’t mean to betray your own country? Didn’t mean to conspire with the enemy?!”

"Yes! I- I- I- was peer pressured! Ghostbur just led me to Technoblade! I didn't know what to do!" he yelps as a particularly big drop of water falls straight into his left eye, blurring his vision. "I didn't want to betray you! Please, Tubbo!" 

To Ranboo's surprise, the words actually have some effect on the president. The young leader's cold mask cracks and hesitance shines through its divots. From what Ranboo has heard, the president has always been a kind, empathetic man, sensitive to others’ suffering, a quality that dampened with the stress of his job. Tubbo sends a doubtful glance to Quackity, who doesn't seem to notice it, simply continuing to watch Ranboo and his nearing demise. 

"I don't want to fight anyone, not even Techno. On the 16th, I thought we would just talk, or try him in court. I didn't know you were gonna execute him! So I felt guilt towards our own enemy. You know why? Because of you, Tubbo!" Ranboo spits out the words he's been holding in for so long. It feels freeing, like a caged bird finally being freed after years without flight. Ironic, considering his current position. "Is it fair to just execute a man with no prior warning, no trial? Do you think that is justice?! Schlatt was a tyrant, an offence to justice, and you hated him for it. He ordered your own execution at a festival. And look where we are now. You are following in Schlatt’s footsteps!"

Tubbo’s expression goes through a wide spectrum of emotion. Indignation, fury, hurt and then settles on wide-eyed shock. Nihachu steps out of the crowd to yell, "Tubbo, please, there has to be another way!" but Fundy quickly grabs her by the elbow, not letting her interfere. 

"Why do you all have to pick sides and go against each other?! Why can't you all just live in peace?! I don't hate you Tubbo, I don't hate Technoblade either, and I don't get why you have to hate each other! This isn’t you Tubbo! You are friendly, and kind, and supportive. You aren’t a tyrant, you aren’t Schlatt." Tears leave prickling trails on Ranboo’s cheeks as he screams his heart out, releasing all of his pent up frustrations with the world. His suit is soaked through, his whole body burning, but he ignores the pain in favour of Tubbo. “In your heart, you know this isn’t right. Let me out, please, let’s talk, try me in court, exile me if you want, just please, please, please I don’t want to go like this-” Another yelp tears from his throat as a chunk of ice breaks off from the ceiling and scrapes against the top of his head.

"I just want to be everyone’s friend-" 

The ice above him shatters at last, showering Ranboo in prickly, cold shards.

Water drops on his head in a waterfall, swiftly filling the trap and leaving Ranboo with no air. 

Ranboo BURNS. 

It is as if trillions of insects have covered every inch of him, eating away at his body. With each passing moment, the pain grows as liquid soaks his skin and reaches his flesh. Ranboo opens his mouth to scream, and water rushes into his lungs, taking away the remainder of his precious oxygen and setting him aflame from the inside. It feels as if he is being gutted, torn from the inside out. It feels like Hell, and the only thought that goes through his scattered mind is that he wants it  _ TO END.  _

Something is happening on the outside, but it's muted by the water and the dull roar of Ranboo tearing his throat in a scream. Blurry shapes move in a frenzy in front of the trap, jumping, running, swinging. Screams, shouts and threats pulse through Ranboo's ears, but he cannot hear the words. 

He grasps at his chest and throat as he feels his airways constrict and spasm, desperate for air, but there isn't a single bubble to prolong his life. The water corrodes his mismatched eyes until all he sees is the pure void of nothingness. As his body runs out of whatever oxygen remained in his bloodstream, pain begins to pulse through him every second. With each beat of death, he flinches and shrieks like an animal. With each beat of death, the world turns just a little bit more muted and distant, until his mind stops registering the sound of screams and clashing swords, and succumbs to non-existence. 

The last thing his crumbling mind comprehends is the echoing click of a door opening, but by then, it is too late. 

  
  


Ranboo wakes in his bed. 

It takes a few seconds for his mind to catch up and then he springs out of the bed, stumbles, and falls onto the floor, panting. His hands scramble all over his body, finding no damage. His eyes see perfectly, there are no burns on his body, and the only hint of his recent demise is the sense of something inside him missing. He feels more vulnerable now, more sensitive to the dangers of the world, as if a layer of protection had been stripped off him.

_ One out, two more to go. _

Even through the walls of his house, he can hear chaos unfolding outside. The clamor of fighting continues, he thinks he can hear Tommy call out “Ranboo!” in an anguished voice. Ranboo scrambles off the floor and skips to the window to see just what’s going on. Tommy and Techno stand with their swords out, potion particles swirling in the air around them. The Butcher Army, together with some of the guests, stand around them in a circle, while others watch from the sidelines with interest. He catches sight of Nikki, disheveled and angry, as she stands breast-to-breast in front of Tubbo, screaming into the boy’s face. The president says something back to her, and gestures towards L’Manburg, towards Ranboo’s house. 

Suddenly, the entire crowd turns towards him.

Without further thought, Ranboo scrambles out of his home without taking a single possession with him. He hears Tubbo’s voice yell “Ranboo, wait!” before the screech of colliding swords and the whistles of flying arrows return. He uses the distraction of the fight to make his escape. 

He sprints towards the wilderness, away from L’Manburg, away from the DreamSMP, without turning around or stopping even for a second, until exhaustion makes his legs wobble and he drops to the ground somewhere in an unfamiliar forest. He lays there, panting, with a burning in his lungs terribly similar to the way they burned when filled with water. The memory of his recent passing sends phantom sensation all over Ranboo’s strained body, and he lets out a moan of misery. Somehow he knows that out of all possible memories, this is one that will stick with him for life.

Once he has rested for a bit and regained his wits, Ranboo is hit with the reality of his situation. Alone in the woods, with no gear, likely hated by everyone he held dear. He thought it impossible to feel even more lost than he had back in L’Manburg when he walked the blurry line between the server’s many sides. Now he had no one to fall back on, abandoned as a result of his own indecisiveness and gullibility. Disconnected from the world at large.

As he lays on the ground and plans his recovery, he wonders how long it will take him to make another book to keep track of his memories.

Even alone and disconnected from the world, his greatest fear is being disconnected from himself.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed reading, consider leaving kudos, comments and following me on Twitter!  
> And if you want to see more, subscribe to my profile on ao3!  
> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/Call_Me_Apple_)  
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